


overcome

by thinkatory



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Comic Book Science, Fans for Equality and Justice's Equality Auction, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Optimism, Post-Endgame, Pre-Iron Man 1, Redemption, Time Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: Quentin Beck's niece has time travel tech and revenge on her mind. It's Peter's job to go back and stop her as neatly and cleanly as possible.Thing is, things are never neat and clean.
Relationships: Past Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	overcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> A couple of notes:  
> \- CNTW, but I'd note the attempted noncon is not M or E-rated content. There are a few deaths scattered throughout, though, and grief's a major theme despite it being a mostly optimistic piece.  
> \- As I wrote, Peter really steered this piece into a redemption arc, so that's cool, I guess.  
> \- Lots of comic book science. Lots. I wouldn't say anything worse than canon, though.

On what would've been Tony's sixty-third birthday, Peter wore a slightly better suit to stand a few feet away from the table at the funeral home to shake hands of passing mourners in a daze.

May was dead. If there had been something he could've done, if there had been some sort of villainous element to her passing, he might have harassed himself inwardly for not doing enough, but he felt even more helpless thinking about an _aneurysm_. She'd just collapsed. One second there, the other gone, for Peter to discover what was left collapsed in a heap in an apartment hallway.

What could Spider-Man do against a freak explosion in his aunt's brain? What good was an alliance with SHIELD against the weaknesses of the human body?

His eyes ached with the start of tears again, and he rubbed at them to make it go away. May deserved all the tears in the world, but he needed to be selfish for just a minute and not fall apart for once in the last few days. Crying was exhausting and embarrassing, especially knowing that it was never just one piece of grief, but death after death after death that had weakened you to that point.

"Hey."

Peter's gaze shot up. MJ stood there – at least in all black but the white stripes on her Converse All-Stars – with a bereft look on her face, and Peter for a moment just wanted her to go away so he wouldn't feel the need to manage the emotional weight of the conversation the way he usually had with her. He pulled in a breath to release the anxiety of seeing her again after so long (two weeks was an eternity without her, knowing she'd wanted to be an entire city away from him since), then said, "Hey, MJ."

"I'm sorry." MJ wasn't quite looking at him. "It's stupid. For her to go this way. She was great."

"Yeah." His throat stuck. "It's. It's good to see you."

"Yeah," she echoed. "I thought... I mean. She was, you know. Important." Peter opened his mouth to cut her off, desperate to push off some of this awkwardness, but she was still going. "I liked her."

"I know." Peter managed the faintest smile. "She liked you."

MJ breathed out slowly. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" No, that was the wrong thing to say. "Never mind," he said abruptly.

She didn't respond for a moment, expression blank in that way that said everything about the emotional turmoil obviously going on in her head, then she said, "Nothing's changed, Peter. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

It was too much. He swiped a hand over his face. "Thanks," he managed. "I'll see you, okay?"

He could feel her watching him. "Yeah," she said finally. "I'll see you." What had to be less than a second passed while her gaze swept over him and she finally left, but it felt like an hour, and he finally disappeared to the bathroom of the funeral home and sat on the toilet to try to breathe in peace.

Somehow, the quiet was worse. Within a few seconds he was crying again, just for an instant, but it was enough to force him to bury his face in his hands and wish he had something, anything, to pray to for relief.

Emotionally constipated exes were probably the worst case scenario at a funeral on the day that Peter ached the most.

"No. No, get out of here," Peter heard Happy say sharply behind the bathroom door, but it swung open anyway. "This is ghoulish, I'm telling you – "

"Peter Parker?" an unfamiliar voice called. "When you've got a minute – "

"Ghoulish," Happy repeated. "Pete, I'm getting this scumbag out of here, just give me a sec."

So the actual worst case scenario was 'journalists' harassing him at a funeral on _this_ day of all days, after the emotionally constipated ex decided to break his heart again. Peter counted his breaths over and over again, until the door opened again and he started to tense all over again.

"It's me, kid," Happy said on the other side of the door. "You got a minute?"

He could talk. "Yeah." He forced himself to stand, to edge out of the stall, and just briefly glance at Happy before turning away. "What's up?" he asked, managing to get his tone casual.

"You have good timing, dodging that journalist, was that your Spider-Sense or something?" Happy tried joking, but Peter didn't answer, and he sighed. "Sorry they snuck in, okay? God, imagine thinking crashing a funeral just to talk to a disproved superhero is an ethical move."

"Some people don't care about ethics." Peter wished he could fake his usual tone. "Sorry, Happy, I'm just... I don't care, okay? Not today."

"I know." Happy's tone dipped, and Peter looked up at him carefully. Happy looked exhausted. "You know I know."

Peter closed his eyes tightly for a moment, intent to stay focused, then moved to Happy and wrapped his arms around him. It was less than a second before Happy's arms were around him in return, and Peter managed to breathe. The hug didn't last long – it didn't have to – and Peter backed off, relieved.

"Hey," Happy said, the most careful smile on his face. "She was so proud of you. You know that, right?"

"Happy." His throat ached. "Happy, I can't do this."

"You can, Pete – "

"It's his birthday," Peter blurted out.

A horrible silence fell between them, and Happy said, cautiously expressionless, "I know."

Peter buried his face into his hands for a moment. "Everyone's gone, Happy," he said into his palms.

"Not everyone, kid," Happy said patiently.

"Tony's gone, May's gone, MJ's gone," he babbled through his hands. "And people are still stalking me and all I have is work and SHIELD and work and SHIELD and work and – "

Happy touched his shoulder, and Peter wilted for a moment. "It'll pass," he said. "You'll find something. Someone."

"Yeah." Peter looked up, careful to meet Happy's gaze for only a moment. "Thanks." It was as sincere as he ever was. "You're the best, man."

"Not half as good as you." Happy's smile had a bit more to it. "Come on. Let's get out there."

Peter allowed Happy to steer him out to the wake again, and he stood there, awkward, until May's friend Ulysses caught by him the shoulder. "Hey! Look at May's little superhero," Ulysses joked, and Peter's smile was reflexive and unhappy. "Sorry, sorry, I know that whole thing was conspiracy theory bullshit. Even if you aren't some webslinger you know she was proud of you, right?"

"I know."

Maybe Spider-Man was the answer. Everything Peter had fallen apart.

Once Ulysses had stopped rambling at him, he fished out his phone from his pocket and sent a text to the number hidden under _Chinese Takeout._

_Should I come in tomorrow?_

Fury answered within five minutes.

_What do you think?_

Peter wondered if the mix of relief and fear was what Tony had felt for all of those years, if he was a worthy recipient of EDITH after all. He'd probably live with that question the rest of his life. It was fine.

Everything would be fine, as long as he could stay steady.

* * *

Sometimes Peter wondered if Fury was ever going to retire, but it was one of those thoughts he had to keep to himself, because he'd once blurted it out to Hill and gotten the most incredulous but amused looks he'd ever received in his life. Thing was, Fury had been a part of his life starting so long ago that Peter couldn't help but feel like a dumb teenager even though he definitely had accumulated the debt and trauma of a twenty-six year old by now.

Today was one of those days, as Peter was ushered to the briefing room in one of the nondescript buildings SHIELD had outside of the city. It was hard not to wonder, as he stared around at all the crazy shit going on through tiny windows in unmarked doors, if he'd ever feel any less out of his depth.

"So," Fury said, in as much greeting as Peter usually got from him, "we got a problem."

"Kind of guessed," Peter said. "I swear I haven't seen much of anything recently, who is it now?"

Fury glanced at Hill for a moment, then turned back to Peter, gesturing for him to sit. Peter moved to one of the halfway comfortable office chairs, and looked expectantly up at the screen. Fury sighed and clicked the remote in his hand to throw an image up onto the screen: a blurry image of a college-aged girl on a laptop.

"This is Trish Zorkin," Fury said. "You might know her better as Binary."

Peter scratched his head as he recalled the headlines buried deep in the news websites. "The hacker?"

Fury clicked the remote again, and showed two closer pictures of Zorkin, a plain girl who could be damn impossible to pick out of a crowd. "The very same," Hill spoke up. "We've kept an eye on her, but she's kept her work in sectors that aren't within our parameters. Until now."

"There's something you should know." Fury glanced away. "She's Quentin Beck's niece."

Peter froze. "And she's been hacking defense firms," he said slowly. "So, what – "

"She made an attempt to hack us," Fury cut him off with, blunt. "She didn't get much, but we think she got something real dangerous."

Peter tried to keep the panic from drowning him. "Does she have a team? Like he did?"

"We don't know for sure," Hill said, and he glanced at her, well-aware of how wild-eyed and owlish he must have looked just based on what little expression she had. "What we do know is that she's hunting for time travel tech."

"What? Why?" Fuck, he was panicking now.

"Parker," Fury said, "take a minute."

"Right," Peter breathed out, and pressed his face into his hands. "Right. Sorry." He swiped his hands over his face, then looked up at Fury and Hill. "Why does she want time travel tech?"

Fury was grim as he went on. "She also accessed records on Tony Stark, specifically to the time before he developed the first suit."

Shit, shit, shit. Peter made himself breathe again. "So, what, she wants to travel back in time to – "

"We suspect to kill Tony Stark," Hill said, blunt, and Peter remained as still and calm as he could manage, waiting for the next horrible revelation. "Which, you know, considering that he saved the universe, is kind of a bad move, but she's not exactly sane."

"Why would she – " Peter shook his head firmly. "No. It's a trap. For me. I'm the one she has a problem with, I, I killed Beck. She knows I'll go."

"Two birds, one stone," Fury said, weary. "She kills Stark, she kills you, she gets revenge on everyone who wronged Beck."

"What do you want me to do? Why are you telling me this?" Peter demanded.

"She's not as good as she thinks she is," Fury said, eye close on Peter. "Maybe at a keyboard, but not in combat. You bait her out of hiding, there's no way you can't take her out."

"You want me to be bait and catch this girl," Peter checked. "That's the plan?"

"Look, you're smart," Fury said, half a complaint. "We'd lie to you, but you'd figure it all out on your own. So this is a real briefing. As far as you're concerned, this is everything you need to know."

"But not everything there is to know," Peter said.

Hill wore a small smile. "No one gets everything there is to know, don't be offended."

"You need to meet our agent on this." Fury raised his eyebrows. "Unless you're not in."

"It's not like I have a choice." Who else could he trust with saving Tony's life? The rising idea that someone might wipe Tony Stark out of existence was starting to give him chest pain in a way he really couldn't afford to have right now, and he swallowed it down as best he could. "Let's go."

Hill escorted him into a lab, where a young brunette scientist worked hard on drafting software on a touchscreen. "Show him," Hill said, and the scientist looked up from her work with surprise before eyeing Peter. Peter raised a hand in awkward but friendly greeting, and Hill left them alone.

"So you're my muscle," the scientist deduced.

"Peter Parker," Peter supplied. "I'm – "

The scientist's smile was light. "I know who you are."

Great. Peter decided to investigate the tech she was working on instead of trying to have a conversation, and it was definitely worth the look. "Quantum tech," he said. "What's the deal?"

The scientist looked at him, quizzical, then back to the draft. "What do you see?"

It was a clear challenge, so he drew closer and considered it. "It's based on – on Tony's time travel design."

"Yeah." The scientist exhaled. "And I did analysis of Strange's Time Stone. This is our worst case scenario button, Mr. Parker."

Now Peter stared openly at the draft. "What?"

That earned a weary sigh. "What do you think happens if she kills Stark?"

"Nothing good," Peter conceded, like a normal, professional person.

"Very bad," the scientist said, and moved past Peter to turn the drafted object thoughtfully. "I call this the Splinter. If it all goes sideways, we break the timeline from our own and there's a parallel universe that, well, might be totally fucked, but at least our own universe isn't totally fucked."

"That doesn't happen automatically?" Peter asked, careful.

There was a long, tired pause from the scientist, and Peter managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at the drama. "No," the scientist said. "We exist in a timestream of collective choices, actions, and events as they are and always will be. Any change to that timestream ripples downward and changes the path of the stream. The only thing that can go back without harming events is the Time Stone."

It was hard not to get a little annoyed. "Then why aren't we getting Strange and using the Time Stone?"

"My guess is they have no idea where he is," the scientist said, openly bemused. "For now, this is what we've got."

Fine. Whatever. "So we use the Splinter in case we don't manage to contain events. If Tony dies early, or something." His throat was starting to burn at the thought. "Right?" As the scientist nodded along, he went on, intent to remain focused. "What happens to us if we use it?"

The scientist all at once looked cagey. "As far as I know," she said, "we can get back."

"As far as you know?" Peter echoed, staring.

"As far as I know. I'm working on it," she said hastily.

Peter smiled. "Need help? I know more about this than you think."

The scientist glanced away, then stuck out her hand reluctantly. "Dr. Olivia Trask."

That was more like it. His smile was more genuine as he shook her hand. "Peter. Can I catch up? I've got nothing to do tonight."

"Me either," Trask said wryly, and Peter laughed, relieved for even the instant away from the painfully draining thought of a world forever without Tony Stark, except for in his too often visited memories.

* * *

Peter got the call at 2:13 in the morning that the mission was a go. No one was next to him in his bed or in the next room over, so no one asked any questions about where he was going in the middle of the night. It was convenient, but it felt bad. He brushed it off as he made his way to the SHIELD building.

Trask was casually loading a gun as he entered her lab. "Are you ready?" she asked as she holstered the gun, the closest thing to a greeting that he'd generally been getting from her as they proceeded with research on the Splinter.

"Yeah, I guess." Peter had come with just his phone strapped tightly to his side and the suit on under his street clothes, and now he wondered where the hell he'd be putting the Splinter. "So, are you briefing me, or – "

"She time-traveled." Trask gestured generally in the direction of the screens, and Peter peered past her, where a lot of data even Peter was having a hard time reading was scribbled out in digital ink. He looked back to Trask, who looked vaguely weary, and went on, "To 2007, in Germany."

"2007." That matched with what they'd expected her plan to be, at least – find a pre-suit Tony. "Are we gonna be able to track her?"

"Of course." Trask shrugged, and held the Splinter out to him in a sharp gesture. Peter took it and looked it over; there was a faint white-blue light pulsing from the side, and he looked up at her. "Measures energy coming from quantum tech," she explained. "As soon as there's enough to truly register, it'll spit out coordinates for you."

"You are insane," Peter said, plainly admiring.

"That was the easy part," Trask said, a little impatient. "Anyway, we need to go."

Wait, wait, wait. "'We'?" Peter asked. "No one told me – I thought I was going this one alone."

Trask was incredibly blase, considering. "They want me there in case you need help with the tech. So you don't wind up stranded back there."

Peter couldn't help but frown. "I'm not sure this is safe for you."

"They don't want you trapped back there," Trask repeated. "So I'm coming with."

"Can't you just load the Splinter up with something?" he tried.

" _Parker_." Trask stared at him, now. "Are you contravening Fury's orders?"

"Jesus. I guess not." Peter exhaled. "All right, but – we'll find somewhere safe to stash you."

"I'm not made of glass," Trask said, clearly bemused. "I'm a SHIELD agent. Now come on. Are you ready?"

"Is – " He looked down at the Splinter. "This is it? What do I do?"

Trask shook her head at him and seized the Splinter around what his hand didn't cover, and it felt like the floor jerked underneath him before he found himself sinking in a whirlpool of insane energy bubbling around them. He scrambled for some kind of footing, then wondered if he could breathe, before he felt something grasp around his arm and realized Trask was pulling him along through the energy. "Is this the quantum realm?" he shouted.

"I can hear you," Trask said, weary. "And you're safe. You're within an energy shield that the quantum realm can't penetrate."

Peter couldn't help but become horribly fascinated. "How are we – "

"Please stop asking questions."

All right, that was fair. They zoomed through a hole that burst into existence, and the tunnels felt both huge and cramped at once until suddenly he was spat out back into existence on an apparently normal street, a bizarre shift from the carbonated feeling of being in the quantum realm. A woman made a startled sound nearby, but he ignored that as Trask appeared next to him. "Was it just me, or did the quantum realm feel like soda?" he dared ask Trask.

"Oh my god," Trask voiced, and he cringed at himself. "Come on. We're here." She nodded to the Splinter. "Let's go."

Trask went ahead of him, and he followed her. "Are we just walking?" he checked. "Because Germany's really big. How long has she been here, anyway? Relatively."

"Remind me to teach you about quantum chronophysics when we get back." Trask almost seemed to mean it. "What I can tell you is that this dropped us where she was maybe… a relative five minutes ago."

"Okay, okay, we can work with that," Peter said, relieved enough at that. He considered the Splinter's pulsing light from the side, and tried to walk casually through the street with Trask alongside him while keeping an eye on the device. "So, see any good movies lately?" he asked Trask cheerfully.

"It's May twenty-first, 2007," Trask said, content to ignore that. "Tony Stark is on vacation here after an event in Geneva. He's staying in a hotel here in Berlin. The ultimate goal here is to not let him see us and handle Zorkin before she ever gets to him. If she gets to him and he sees something he shouldn't, we Splinter. Then we try to get out of here. End of story."

Peter took that in. "Anything he shouldn't see. So if he sees Spider-Man – "

Trask was shaking her head already. "Not good. This is a stealth mission."

So he probably wouldn't get a chance to see Tony. Which was fine. This wasn't about seeing Tony, he reminded himself in a harsh enough tone. This was about saving Tony, the man who saved the universe. What Peter wanted wasn't the point right now. Grief was an indulgence he couldn't allow.

"There," Trask said suddenly a few blocks down the street, and Peter looked at the white-blue light brightly pulsing through and past his fingers. "Let's get somewhere more private, check out coordinates."

They sneaked down an alleyway, and Peter punched the button on the side after Trask's prompting look; a screen projected outward, doing calculations as it loaded, then spat out coordinates. Trask was already plugging them into her phone. "She's heading for the hotel," she said flatly.

"Shit." Peter's heart started racing. "Shit, shit. Fine. Yeah."

"Get your shit together," Trask said, to the point, but it was what he needed, honestly. Once he was pulling in a normal breath or two, she caught him by the sleeve of the hoodie and pulled him back through the street to catch a cab.

"So." Peter looked at Trask as the cab started to drive through Berlin. His hand was starting to ache a little just gripping the Splinter like it was a lifeline, so he handed it off and rubbed his hand to get some normal feeling back into it. "Sort of a big job, isn't it? For a scientist."

"I take orders." Trask handed the Splinter back as soon as he seemed relaxed enough for her liking. "I'm good at taking orders."

"Yeah, I can see that," he supposed. "Are you scared?"

"I trained for this." Trask looked him in the face. "And the first thing you learn is that you're not _not_ going to be afraid. Right?"

That was true. "So you just push through."

Trask shrugged. "You use it. So I hear, anyway. I've mostly been in labs. I went out on active duty once."

"I like active duty." Peter looked out of the window. "Makes me feel, I don't know. Useful."

"You could be in a lab," Trask said, and it surprised Peter so much that he sent an inquiring look her way. "If you weren't you, I mean." She seemed genuine. "You're smart."

"I know." Peter smiled, unable to keep a little depression from creeping in. "But that's not my gig. That was decided for me a long time ago."

"Technically, you can do anything you want."

He shook his head even as the words were coming out of her mouth. "No. No, I can't."

Trask made a dismissive sound. "You're stubborn. No wonder you got along with him."

Peter couldn't resist a little smile. "Stubborn is good."

"Sure." Trask observed him for a moment. "If this goes sideways, you need to know. Everything's in the Splinter. I can't guarantee we can get back to where we came from, I didn't have the time to finish all of that, but everything's in the Splinter. Just use your head."

"Don't talk like that." Then it sank in. "You can't guarantee we can get back?"

"Quantum is what quantum is," she said, tone mild and expression unreadable. "But I've given you all the tools to stabilize and figure it out if it comes to that. Just keep the Splinter safe."

"Oh." Peter stared at the Splinter. "Well, let's hope for the best."

Trask made a weary sound as the cab stopped. She shelled out the money before gesturing for Peter to follow her. She faced the gorgeous hotel and turned back to Peter once he was fully out of the cab. "So, we know the room number, so we know which floor she's going to hit. We just have to hit her before she gets there. There's a service stairwell. I'll show you where."

"Did you memorize blueprints for a random hotel?" Peter couldn't help but ask.

"Come on," Trask said, pointed, and walked around the side of the hotel.

"Oh." He had a feeling about where this was heading. "Cool. Great." He had a sudden realization. "I… shouldn't mask up, should I?"

Trask paused. "Will it help shield you?"

Peter shook his head again. "That's less important than having to Splinter because I revealed Spidey too early, isn't it?"

He'd caught Trask off-balance for the first time, apparently. "Yeah, that makes sense," she said. "You don't need it for the shooters?"

"Nah, it's all on underneath this." He tapped the sleeve of his hoodie. "All I have to do is pull the sleeves down properly and boom. Shooters."

"Oh." Trask shrugged. "Sounds good. Anyway. Here." They stopped at a service entrance, and she nodded at a nearby window. "You got it from here?"

"Where are you going?" Peter asked directly, unable to help a little concern.

"I'll be on the twentieth floor to be your backup if it comes to that," Trask said patiently. "You go this way, I'll go mine, we'll meet in the middle. Deal?"

Seemed reasonable. "Cool. See you." He jabbed a thumbsup with a cheerful expression, got very little expression from Trask in return, and grinned before pulling the suit down his hands, climbing the wall, and crawling through the window.

The window dropped him into a small conference room probably used by staff, and he sneaked through the short corridor into the service stairwell. Twenty floors' worth of stairs was going to blow, but there didn't seem to be a lot of options, so he started the trek, resisting the urge to hum as he went.

Then he heard the voice as he opened the door for the stairwell for the eighteenth floor. "I'm telling you," a woman's voice said, "we're golden. So relax." Peter went rigid, but moved silently forward, shutting the door as silently as possible behind himself. The woman kept on speaking. "Two more floors. I'm not going to die."

 _Two more floors._ The twentieth floor. He looked down at the Splinter, which was pulsating intensely. He crammed it into his hoodie pocket to zip it, and climbed the wall to reach the ceiling some feet away to observe who was talking.

Sure as hell, it was Zorkin, making her way up the stairs and talking to herself as she went, though he noted she was wearing an earpiece. "Don't just complain at me, give me data," she said aloud.

It was a shift in conversation, and his Spider-Sense burst between his ears just quickly enough that he darted out of the way of the bullet from the gun Zorkin suddenly brandished in his direction. He landed on his feet at the top of the landing, with a smile just this side of a taunt. "You're Binary, right?"

"I knew it," Zorkin breathed, and stared at him, gun still trained on him. "I knew they'd send you. How stupid can they be?"

"I just wanna be ready," Peter started. "Are you gonna monologue or not? If you're gonna monologue, I gotta pace myself. Monologues are funny."

"Goddamn you," Zorkin snapped off. "You think this is funny? You fucking psychopath!"

"I'm the psychopath?" Peter couldn't help but laugh. "Do you hear yourself, lady?"

"You killed my uncle!" Zorkin was becoming unhinged. Yup. Monologuer. Was that a word? "Do you even understand what you did that day?"

"Yeah," Peter said, matter-of-fact. "I stopped a bad guy. Kinda what I do. Why do you want to kill Tony?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Zorkin shouted. "I'm not going to monologue for your entertainment, you absolute prick!"

"Oof, personal insults," Peter said, feigning a cringe. "Let's try to be professional here, maybe?" He webbed up her gun, then she tapped her earpiece and he didn't catch her hand in time; there was a sudden sonic blast, a wall of screeching sound, and he crammed his hands against his ears, but not quickly enough to stop her bursting past him.

"Shit, shit, shit," Peter hissed at himself, and ran after Zorkin, who was already to flight nineteen, her Doc Martens the only thing he saw as she went. He climbed up the walls to get to her, but she slammed the door to the twentieth floor on him and he yanked it off its hinges without thinking. "Whoops." Subtle. Good work, Peter.

No point worrying about it now. Peter jumped to the ceiling and climbed after Zorkin, spotting Trask moving from where she'd been tucked away in the corner of the hallway. "No, no, no," Peter shouted as Trask came into Zorkin's sightline.

The mask would've defended him from the sonic blast, maybe, but this time he had to bear down into the ceiling to withstand it, and by then Zorkin was on top of Trask. He landed in time enough to yank Zorkin back from Trask, but in the millisecond he went to wrap a web around her Zorkin fired through the webbing and directly into Trask twice.

Peter yanked a webbed-up Zorkin backwards as she screamed obscenities and absolutely no coherent words at all, and slammed her to the floor pointedly to web up her mouth as he went to kneel by Trask. "Hey," he whispered to her, but her gaze was already faraway. "Hey, hey." He felt his breaths coming fast all at once. "Hey, Trask, stay with me. Olivia. Doctor. Please." No, no, no. "Please."

He wasn't stupid; when he saw her go completely slack, her blood soaking the carpet by his jeans, he knew. He looked to a webbed up Zorkin, resentment clutching him at every angle, and he scrambled for the Splinter.

"Quick question," Tony Stark said from ten feet away. "Who has jurisdiction over crimes with spider-people again? I always forget."

Peter looked up, as bereft and pale as he'd been in the past week, and hit the button on the Splinter.

"Hi," he said, plaintive. "I could use some help."

"Great, yeah," Tony said, and Peter noticed he was _distressingly_ handsome right now, which was completely and utterly unhelpful of his brain to offer. "Who are you and why should I help you?"

"I just saved your life." Peter noticed the reaction that got, and pressed. "I'll tell you everything if you just help me figure this out without a swarm of police and a million questions. I know you can pull that off."

Tony's gaze was somewhere else entirely now. "What's that in your hand?"

Oh, _there_ was his leverage. "Tech you've only dreamed of," Peter said swiftly. "I'll tell you everything. Just. Please."

Tony looked him in the face, rolled his eyes, and swiped a hand over his face. "Sure. Fine. I'll get my guys to handle it. What do you need from me, Spider-Guy?"

"Spider-Man," Peter answered, his heart fluttering from too, too much right now. "Somewhere for – somewhere for my friend to go. And... probably somewhere to crash."

Tony was examining him in a calculating way Peter had never seen from him before, something cool in his expression. "Sure," he said. "Give me two minutes."

"Okay." Peter could breathe, maybe. He looked down at Trask, and had to breathe. "Okay."

Tony walked off, evidently talking to JARVIS, and Peter reached over to close Trask's eyes with his mouth set firmly.

Tony Stark was alive. That had to be all that mattered right now.

* * *

Somehow, Tony managed to get it all cleaned up, finding somewhere 'respectful' to keep Trask's body for a time, and Zorkin wound up ziptied and gagged instead of webbed in the corner of Tony's incredibly spacious suite. Peter held firmly onto the Splinter as Tony examined Zorkin's earpiece intently. "Sort of tempting to just put this thing on and see what happens, but I'm not that stupid," he said conversationally to Peter. "I need real equipment to figure out what the hell this is. Unless you can tell me what it is."

"I don't know what that is." Peter watched Tony's gaze drop to the Splinter gripped in his hands, and he exhaled. "I do know what this is."

"Fine," Tony said. "I held up my part of the deal. Tell me about your tech."

Peter had been doing some quick calculations in his head, and there seemed to be only one thing to say. "I have other terms."

Tony rolled his eyes openly. "Verbal contract, kid. I clean up your mess, you tell me about your tech." He was staring in a very macho sort of way, now, trying to intimidate him or something, and it was so weirdly immature that it snapped him out of any idea that he was dealing with a Tony he knew. "Who are you?"

"My name's Peter Parker." There was no point in lying. "I don't want you using my tech for war. I don't want you profiting off of it. Does that make sense to you?"

Tony's gaze was hot on him now. "That depends," he started.

"No." Peter stared back at him, pointed, doing his best to press back on the pressure. "Tech you've only dreamed of, and I mean it. And I'll let you work on it with me, but – this isn't war tech. All right?"

Tony turned his head, clearly frustrated. "Yeah, fine. Just tell me."

Peter released his tight grip on the Splinter for a second to look down at it. "It's quantum tech," he said. "Trask was a quantum chronophysicist."

Tony's gaze shot back to him. "You're a time traveler."

"Not from that far in the future," Peter said hastily. "I'm from 2033." He tensed as Tony rose and approached him, and he held onto the Splinter firmly. "What?" he demanded, on edge.

"You're here for me." As ever, Tony wasn't an idiot, but it wasn't particularly helpful right now, and Peter bit back a sigh. "Crazy co-ed was trying to kill me. Why?"

"Family grudge." That seemed fair enough to leave it at. "I need to get home." Peter hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there it was. "But I don't trust you with this tech right now, okay? I know who you are and I know what you do." It hurt to say. "What I do know is that you can make a huge change in the world, right now, with what I have in my hand, with what you have in your head. So." He breathed out sharply. "Yeah."

Tony looked down at him, his expression unreadable, and Peter felt a horrible ache in his chest. "What are you getting at?" he asked evenly.

"I'm saying – " This could be easy. This was a splinter universe, and his own was safe from all the stupid shit he was doing right now. He could turn this Tony into Iron Man without having Tony go through horrible trauma, and wouldn't that be better? "I'm saying you've always been capable of doing good. You can start, right now. And I can give you... _such_ a fucking upgrade." He tried flashing a smile.

Tony watched him, a calculating look in his eyes and his face blank of anything else. "And what if I just take it from you?"

"I guess you could do that," Peter said, managing not to visibly flounder. "But it'd be faster if you let me explain everything to you."

"So you get this tech," Tony deduced. "You know how it works."

Well, mostly. "Yeah. I'd say so."

Tony tossed the earpiece into the air and snatched it as it fell, releasing a heavy sigh. "All right, kid. Parker. Can't promise I'll become a saint, but your time travel tech's safe in my hands."

Peter had an awful sense that this was a load of bullshit, and he was making a huge mistake, but there didn't seem to be an alternative. "I need your help to get home," he said abruptly. "Access to a lab, a workspace, materials. I'm pretty sure this thing can't get me back."

Tony looked at him, astonished. "They sent you here without a way to get back?"

"Not exactly," Peter hedged. "It's complicated. I think we gotta cut your vacation short, though."

"That's fair," Tony said, and turned away, tone now unreadable. "Right. I'll get us out here." He pocketed the earpiece, then looked at Zorkin with an expression of pure exhaustion. "What the hell do we do with her?"

Even though it was clear Tony was thinking out loud, Peter spoke up. "I can sneak her out the back. She'll kill you if we take off the restraints."

"I'm gonna need more than 'family grudge,'" Tony said flatly with barely a glance back away from Zorkin, "but we've got time for all that. Fine, you get her out the back as soon as I've got the car ready."

"So – " Peter gestured, unsure he wanted to bother Tony, but not exactly having an alternative. "We head to your place, go over the tech, figure out the way for me to get home with Zorkin, and we're golden. Right?"

"Seems easy." Tony didn't seem convinced, though. "What's your deal?"

Peter blinked at that, sitting back. "What deal?"

"Obviously you know a lot about me. Or you know me from the future." Tony swiped a hand through his hair and looked back at Peter. "Why are you trying to convince me to become a fucking saint?"

"Not a saint." Peter's throat burned. "But I know you're capable of more than handing weapons off to anyone with a briefcase full of cash."

"That's the game, kid," Tony said, with clearly tested patience. "What do you want from me?"

Fine, if it was going to be like that. "Trask died to save you. Because she knows what you're capable of. Because she knows that, if you choose to be, you can be one of the most important people in the entire universe." He waited a beat, while Tony stared at him. "Or you can just shoot the shit with terror groups and drink with girls once they've taken away your tech. I don't know. It's up to you."

Tony looked vaguely overwhelmed in another way Peter had never seen from him. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Trask died to save you," Peter repeated. "Doesn't that tell you something? Why would she die for an arms dealer?"

"I don't know, maybe I." Tony lost some steam, and his jaw set. "I don't know. God, I hate those words."

Peter managed a vague smile. "So. We'll see. We can talk."

"Sure," Tony said evenly. "Give me a minute. I'll get the car. You take Mousy Assassin with you." He looked at Zorkin. "This was the best look you could manage for killing me? Baggy sweatshirt, ponytail? It's an assassination, not going to the university library to finish a paper."

Peter managed not to roll his eyes. "I'll take her. Let's get out of here." He flashed a smile reflexively. "Tons to do."

Tony stared at him as though trying to put together a puzzle, and Peter just smiled in return. "Keep an eye out," Tony said abruptly. "I'll see you at the service entrance."

"Great," Peter said cheerily, and pulled Zorkin to her feet. It earned a muffled but clear _Fuck you_ from Zorkin through her gag, but he was happy to ignore that and haul her from the hotel room with as much stealth as he could manage.

This wasn't his Tony. It was a Tony, but it wasn't his Tony. Not that Tony had ever been his. At least _this_ Tony hadn't seen straight through him, or at least hadn't felt like pointing it out yet, and he had a horrible grim sense that at long last someone – someone who looked just like his dead... something – was going to figure him out and take him apart completely.

He just had to keep from falling apart.

Zorkin forced out a muffled _Asshole_ , and Peter tightened his grip on her arm with an unhappy smile.

Trask had died for Tony. That had to do something; that had to move the needle. Didn't it?

* * *

Within a day, they were in Malibu. In another universe, the house had been destroyed by the Mandarin, but right now, Tony lived in it, oblivious to actual threats raging on the horizon. Peter supposed that was his job. Maybe. If the Splinter had worked, he didn't have to worry about changing the future he'd lived in, and wasn't it the right thing to do, to neutralize all those threats before they came crashing down on Earth and the universe?

There was a lot to think about, as Peter laid in bed staring at the ceiling with faint sunlight pouring in through the windows onto the walls somehow adorned with a perfect coat of paint. Peter hadn't known that paint could be perfect like that.

"It's seven AM," JARVIS announced calmly, jarring Peter out of his reverie. "Mr. Stark would like to meet you in his lab. Please stop in the kitchen for breakfast in advance."

Peter exhaled, then pushed himself out of bed, suddenly unsure of what the hell he was supposed to wear as he looked down at the shirt and boxers he wore now, but looked askance at a large suitcase sitting neatly in front of the wardrobe in the room. He knew Tony Stark well enough, and knelt to open it to find several changes of clothes.

Typical Tony. He had to smile. He pulled on the color-blocked t-shirt and a pair of jeans, then his worn hoodie, which still held the Splinter – one of the things he'd insisted upon at their arrival was to always have access to it. He moved with uncertainty through the house until he found the kitchen. A still-warm English muffin was in the toaster, and he stared at it, wondering how exactly it'd managed to get there before deciding it wasn't worth asking questions. He found some butter, jam, and ate gratefully; he hadn't eaten since facing down Zorkin.

The next question was the lab. "JARVIS, where's the lab?" he spoke up, swiping a hand over his face to get rid of crumbs.

"Past the foyer and down a flight of stairs. You're authorized to enter."

"Thank you," Peter said instinctively, thinking of Vision, wondering now if Vision would ever come to exist here, and shook his head before heading to the lab.

As Peter stared into the lab from the glass door, he couldn't help but think it was somehow _perfect_. The tech was beautiful, the robots were amazing, and Tony in the middle of it was the center of the masterpiece. This wasn't his Tony, but the scene itself was so painfully Tony that he could've stared at it for at least an hour in the best kind of ache.

Tony gestured him inside upon realizing that he was there, and he slipped into the lab, not getting a chance to even open his mouth to speak before Tony spoke first. "Kid, we have a problem."

"What?" Peter asked, startled. "I mean, I know we have problems, but – "

"I'd like you to meet Odysseus." Tony cleared his throat, and glanced away. "Hey, asshole. Introduce yourself."

"There's no need to be rude." A young man's voice came from nowhere, and Peter jumped, startled, then it sank in.

"An AI." It'd explain who Zorkin had been speaking to. "You've kept him separate from JARVIS, right?"

"You know about JARVIS, too," Tony said, and sighed heavily. "Yeah, this one's walled off from JARVIS. I've been talking to Odysseus here since I managed to access him through her earpiece. He doesn't have a lot to say, though."

"Why not?" Peter asked conversationally, though it felt weird talking to someone who wasn't physically there, or who was, but who wasn't – oh, never mind. "If you talk to us, we can help Zorkin, that matters to you, doesn't it? Are you loyal to her?"

"Trish could help you," Odysseus said, matter-of-fact. "She's a genius. If you release her, work with her, it would take much less time."

"She wants to kill Tony," Peter said, snappish. "We're not _that_ interested in getting us home. She'll get home once we've got the tech ready."

"The world will be a better place once Tony Stark is dead," Odysseus said plainly. "You're blinded by emotion. By what he did. But anyone could do what he did."

"That's insane." Peter made an irritated sound. "No one could have managed what he did."

"Sorry, what did I do?" Tony cut in, more than a little demanding. "I'd love to know what I am or am not getting credit for right now."

"Saving lives doesn't change the fact that he took them," Odysseus went on. "With great prejudice. This is the time to stop him, before he becomes so overpowered that he's impossible to stop."

"All right, this is stupid," Peter decided, far past annoyed now. "Brainwashed AI. Cool. Can you shut him off or something?"

"So neither of you is going to tell me what's going on," Tony deduced. "What gets me so _overpowered_?"

Peter's mouth set as he restrained a groan. "Thanks, Odysseus," he snapped off, then looked at Tony. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear the whole story."

"You're being cryptic," Tony complained, half a whine in his voice, and Peter couldn't help but notice that this Tony _again_ was so much less weary than the one he knew, so ready to waste his energy on nothing. He did a few keystrokes to block out Odysseus, and turned back to Peter. "What happens if I refuse to help you until you tell me?"

Peter hesitated. "So… the problem is that the tech you created, that made you this target, I'm worried about what happens if I give it to you."

"So you know this tech, this overpowered whatever." Tony watched him intently. "How well?"

"This is what I'm talking about," Peter said, unable to keep from getting sharp with him. "You just want the tech. I don't know if I trust you not to sell it at large."

Tony took a seat and rested back. "Why shouldn't I?"

"You can use it to change the world." Peter's throat hurt. "You can inspire so many others. You can become a leader who people trust with their lives."

"Like you," Tony said. "You trusted me with your life."

"Yes." Peter saw no point in lying about it. "You inspired me, too."

"So you want some kind of promise from me." Tony's gaze was almost too intense on him. "That if you give me this tech, I'll turn this all around, use it to protect people. Is that right?"

"I think the fact that Trask is dead after she tried to save your life and I stranded myself in this timeline for you should probably tell you that your life is worth saving for more than creating missiles and partying," Peter said, and pulled in a breath. "You can be so much more than what you are."

"What are you, my life coach?" Tony asked, waspish. "Jesus, I don't know. How am I any good for anyone?"

"You were so much to so many people, in my past." Peter couldn't help but be pained, now, desperate. "You learned a hard lesson, and I don't want you to have to learn this that way. It can be so much easier. You can just… listen. Realize that you have a gift and you can use it to help others."

Tony was silent for a moment, then scratched his head. "All right," he said. "Say I play along. Say I try this shit. What's the tech?"

Right. Peter managed to steady himself. "I need your drafting software. I think I should be able to use it without the readme, even if it'll be older than what I'm used to using."

"I trusted you to use my lab?" Tony was clearly astounded by that much.

"You trusted me with a lot." Peter had to calm down. "Can I try this? It might take some time." Then, he reached into his pocket and stuck the Splinter out at Tony. "You… you can look at this. Trask said everything we needed to understand it was in there somewhere."

Tony took the Splinter from him, clearly realizing what he'd been offered, and glanced sideways at him. "So what happens if you try to travel back without assurances that you'll land where you need to?"

"You get trapped in quantum… space, I guess," Peter said, and cleared his throat. "And you don't die, you don't come back, you just sit there. From what I understand."

"Jesus." Tony shook his head. "No pressure. All right. I look at this, you work on the tech?"

"Sure, I'll try," Peter said hurriedly. "No promises I'll get it right the first time."

"Tony."

Peter's gaze shot up as Pepper entered the lab; he couldn't help but notice that she looked so much less _worried_ than he'd always known her, so much less worn. He smiled despite himself, and moved to the workspace Tony directed him to.

"Hey," Tony said to Pepper, conversational. "What's up?"

"You have a conference in ten hours." Peter could feel Pepper watching him as she spoke. "The jet will be waiting for you in three."

"Yeah, I'm not going." As Peter glanced at Tony tossing the words off like they were nothing, he saw he'd tucked the Splinter away in his back pocket. "I'm sort of in the middle of a thing."

Pepper was staring holes through Tony, now. "I promised them you'd present this year," she said, as patiently as she could manage. "But I can tell them you've canceled."

Tony put on a clearly fake dismissive tone as he shifted on his feet. "Look, this is… a big deal," he said. "So yeah, cancel for me."

Pepper glanced past him again at Peter, who she obviously knew was watching, and decided to speak up to at least break the awkwardness. "Hi," he offered. "I'm Peter."

"New research partner," Tony cut in. "He'll be crashing here while we work."

"You have a research partner," Pepper repeated. "That's new."

"Yeah." Tony glanced back at Peter. "If he's actually any good."

"I'm good," Peter said, in forced cheer. "Pepper Potts, right?"

Pepper smiled. "Good to meet you, Peter," she said, then turned to Tony. "Should I cancel your appearance next week as well?"

"That's probably a good idea." Tony raised his eyebrows. "Nothing for me to sign this time?"

"It's a quiet week without the conference," Pepper said mildly. "If you'll excuse me."

Oh, the awkwardness could be cut with a knife. Peter cringed as Tony nodded delicately and turned back to the lab, and Peter decided not to speak until Pepper was gone. "So, you don't usually let people in here?" he asked casually.

"She thinks we're fucking," Tony said breezily. "Let's have something to show for all this, okay?"

Peter managed not to die on the spot. "Yeah, that's the plan," he got out.

Tony eyed him, then projected out a screen and started rattling orders off to JARVIS as he set the Splinter down on the table.

It was Peter's job to recreate the suit. He could do that. He'd _built_ a suit. Sort of. He'd spoken to Tony as an excitable teenager about the tech; he'd seen blueprints, a decade ago. He'd been made to do this.

The briefest flash of concern tried to break through his determination, that this was the biggest mistake that he could make, but the expression on Tony's face as he explored the Splinter was a vague reassurance. Some of that cold calculation had left his face, and that was good enough for Peter, at least for now.

He had time to work on him. He could make this happen. He could create a better Tony Stark.

* * *

Within days, Peter could say with some confidence that the suit was _going_. 'Going well' wasn't exactly the right phrase, but it was going, and Tony kept getting _very distracted_ by Peter's test attempts until Peter directed him pointedly back to the time travel tech.

It'd taken maybe ten minutes for Tony to find where Trask had hidden the quantum calculations in the Splinter's programming, the obvious clue she'd suggested Peter look for, and he abandoned the suit for a while to help Tony work through the math.

"Stop hovering," Tony demanded, as Peter watched him scribble on the digital board. "I got this."

"Kinda," Peter said. "You've kinda got this."

"Do you talk to future me like this?" Tony asked rhetorically, and stepped back, still staring at the board.

"Okay, okay." Peter stepped in now. "You see this here?" He gently took the stylus from Tony's hand, ignoring the leap in his chest at the briefest contact, and circled a portion of the equation. "You're trying to break through a dimensional barrier, and it requires a certain level of kinetic energy."

"I got that," Tony said, through clearly forced patience.

"But you don't," Peter said, with equally tested patience. "You're thinking of this like you're forcing your way physically. You're not. You're… kinda slipping through a crack you create, because the quantum realm isn't exactly separate from everything, it isn't somewhere you travel so much as somewhere you access. Think of yourself cutting through a chain-link fence and slipping through. You gotta have a certain amount of force, but it's not brute force, it's… you kinda slip."

There was silence from Tony, so Peter turned to face him, and the look on Tony's face could've knocked him dead: some mix of lust and fascination. Peter swallowed, and turned back to the board. "So your physics is wrong," he said. "Um. I think I should – do you mind? I gotta step out,"

"Where do you want to go?" Tony asked him, in a tone Peter had never heard from him in his entire life.

"I don't know." Then, all at once, he did know. "Zorkin. I want to see Zorkin."

Tony released a sigh like he'd aged a year just hearing it. "Right. She's holed up in one of the guest bedrooms. You sure you want to see her? You'll need to be, you know, ready for anything."

"That's me," Peter said, cheery to deflect. "She's a problem, Tony. I want to figure her out."

"Better you than me," Tony said, and turned back to the board. "You psychoanalyze the psycho, I'll be working this." As Peter turned away, Tony added, "Don't forget about the suit."

Peter smiled broadly, even though Tony couldn't see it. "I swear. Never will."

Once Peter had enough spider-suit on to restrain Zorkin if it came to it, he made enough conversation with JARVIS to find out Zorkin was barred in a room just a corridor away from where Peter had been staying. The thought was vaguely concerning until he realized JARVIS had the situation well under control. "I'm ready," he told JARVIS. "Let me in."

"Of course, Mr. Parker."

The door clicked, and Peter opened it to see Zorkin staring at the ceiling as she laid in bed. It was bizarre to see her _resting_ , but it didn't last longer than a second before she was scrambling up to sit. "What do you want?" she pressed. "Are you letting me out? Are you taking me back there?"

The door shut behind Peter, and he had to stare at her. "You didn't have a way home, either."

"I didn't need one." Zorkin looked pale. "I didn't want one."

"Why not?" Peter stuck his hands into his hoodie pockets. "We don't even really exist here. It'd be a pain in the ass to stay."

Zorkin shook her head. "I knew I'd die trying to do this."

He wondered why she seemed so calm. "Why is this so important to you? Killing Tony?"

"You know why," she said, suddenly weary.

"Not exactly," Peter persisted. "I know he wronged your uncle. I don't get why that matters so much to you." He hesitated. "I get why you want me dead."

"There's no winning with either of you." The bitterness shouldn't have been surprising, but it was. "It takes cosmic beings or whatever to kill you. Fucking stones. Regular people like me don't stand a chance."

He could do this. "Are you a regular person? You're… you're an incredible hacker, you created an AI, you created that sonic tech. You're a genius."

Zorkin's gaze hardened. "What good is all of that if I can't do the right thing?"

Right. There it was. "If you'd managed to kill Tony, what would've happened when Thanos came? What would've happened when they attacked New York? I don't get how this makes sense to you."

"I was going to do it." It was so jarring to hear from her that he screwed up his face, and she huffed. "I'm serious," Zorkin said. "I could've done it."

"You wanted to save the world instead?" It was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "You think you could've done that by yourself? Created the suit, pulled together the group?"

"You're so obsessed with this one genius that you've forgotten you're looking at one right now." She held his gaze. "If you don't think I could do it, with all of the resources I could get – "

"How would you get the resources?" Wait, why was he listening to her crazy foiled plan? "Look, it's… that's over. We need to talk about where we go from here."

"You can kill me." Zorkin shook her head as a desperate expression flashed across Peter's face. "I'm serious. I failed. Just do it."

"Absolutely not." Peter swiped a hand over his face. "Trish, absolutely not."

The use of her first name made her voice audibly catch. "Parker, what the hell are you doing?" she asked, practically forcing the words out.

"I'm trying to do the right thing." Sometimes he wanted to do the right thing so badly it hurt. "And killing someone like you is one of the worst things I could do right now."

Now Zorkin looked desperate, and angry at the emotion. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to be able to trust you." Peter hadn't known this was what he'd come here to do, but now he was absolutely sure. "Do you think we can get there?"

"That's not an answer," Zorkin insisted. "What do you want from me?"

Fine. "To change the world. You can do this. We can do this, all I need is an assurance that you're… you're not gonna try to kill us."

Her expression was stony, now. "You killed my uncle."

"Your uncle was dangerous and you know it." So was she. "Your uncle… had an idea. It was the wrong idea. You're as talented as him, as his team, and you can do this the right way."

"The Avengers way," she shot back.

"No." Peter knew that. "We can do better than that. I just need you to trust me, and I need to be able to trust you."

Zorkin went silent, and Peter managed a tiny smile. "Something to think about," he finished. "I'll see you soon."

"Can I talk to Odysseus?" she asked abruptly.

Shit. He cringed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fine," she sniped, clearly stung, and he slipped out of the room, hearing it lock behind him. He released a short breath, and made his way to the kitchen for a snack to push the conversation away for a time to think about later, when he barely slept.

* * *

A week of work with the best colleague he'd ever had passed. It was like the most stressful dream he ever could've hoped for.

"You should probably open a window or something," Peter said conversationally to Tony, as he guided the nanites to creep the suit over Tony's hand and far enough up his arm.

Tony watched him closely, even as he spoke. "JARVIS, get the skylight for us, would you?"

The ceiling revealed the skylight and cracked it open; Peter was already busy getting the nanites for the feet of the suit going, calmly kneeling at Tony's feet to check the readings. "All right, two tests at once, that's good science, right?" he asked, cheerfully uncertain. "Test flight one?"

"Test flight one," Tony agreed, and tested the arm of the suit. "What's the holdup on making the whole thing?"

"Well, uh." How was there a way to do this without revealing his Tony's entire life history? "I'm sort of reverse-engineering a concept that started very differently than this, so – "

"This isn't a total asspull, is it?" Tony persisted.

All right, that was a little annoying. "Does it look like an asspull?"

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I'm saying, if this explodes and kills me, you're in deep fucking shit."

"I know that." Peter sighed. "If you want me to do it – "

"No, if you really expect me to go out and save lives or whatever I should probably know how this works from the inside." Tony caught his gaze. "See, I'm having a hard time trusting you, because you're _too_ easy to trust. It's unsettling."

Peter couldn't help a smile. "I do my best."

"You're too sincere. It's weird." Tony stretched his arm out, and powered the energy blast up instinctively. "Oh. Felt that."

"Yeah, I figured you might." He felt a horrible, unnecessary warmth in his chest. "So, test flight one?"

"Right," Tony said briskly. "Let's do this." There was the slightest flicker of reaction in what suit he had on, from Peter's angle watching the readings, then the energy burst under Tony's feet and he was hovering. "Oh shit, oh shit – "

"Just relax, balance it," Peter urged, and caught Tony's hands; it stopped Tony from scrambling for just long enough to catch his balance and steady himself. Tony was looking into his face, and Peter laughed it off, embarrassed, releasing his hands. "Yeah, you got it. Try heading up."

"You sure about this?" Tony checked. "Did I blow off a foot or something trying this in your time?"

"Pretty sure you didn't," Peter said casually, and flashed a grin. "There's a first time for anything, but I feel good about this. Keep going."

Tony rolled his eyes, not maliciously, and flew up a few feet, then to the skylight, still unsteady but at least managing to direct the suit. "What now?" he asked Peter, sounding more concerned for his safety than Peter had ever heard.

"Well, if you want to come down." Peter watched the readings. "Otherwise you can try an energy burst."

"Right up through here." Tony released a sigh Peter could even hear from the ground. "All right, fuck it. Any aircraft up there?" 

"What?" Peter realized. "Oh, shit. JARVIS?" he checked.

"Radar indicates no aircraft nearby," JARVIS said mildly.

"Great," Tony said in that _very on task_ way, then the familiar whine of the suit charging the blast began just before he shot it straight into the air. After the instant Peter realized he hadn't managed to explode Tony's hand right off of his arm, he laughed aloud, delighted, and heard Tony whooping from the skylight.

"Fuck yes!" Tony shouted.

"Mr. Stark," JARVIS said, "Obadiah Stane is here to see you."

Tony's reaction was instantaneous. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Get me down," he shouted down at Peter, half-panicked.

"Relax," Peter suggested, gentle enough. "The suit knows what you want if you communicate with it. Just try down."

"'Just try down', that's your advice?" Tony was managing to descend, though, and hurriedly withdrew the nanites into the blocks Peter had programmed to toss to him. "I gotta get this."

"Tony!"

It wasn't a voice that Peter explicitly recognized, but it had to be Stane. Peter tensed and pocketed each of the blocks, stepping backwards and out of the way as Stane entered the lab. The main thing Peter remembered about that face was the way it'd been plastered on the news prior to the Iron Man announcement, about the reign of terror over a single night pinned to it.

"Hey," Tony said to Stane conversationally, hands tucked into his pockets. "How's it hangin'?"

Stane didn't look angry, but not impressed, either. "We need to talk. Want to get a drink?"

"Oh, sure." Tony looked on edge in a way Peter had never seen him, and he'd seen Tony nervous a _lot_. "I've got company, though. Hey, Pete, you mind stepping out?"

Stane's gaze shot to Peter, and Peter kept his expression easy and friendly enough. "Sure, you've got business shit, right? No problem."

"I don't think we've met." Stane moved through the lab to offer his hand to Peter. "Obadiah Stane."

Peter desperately did not want to shake his hand, but a handshake was probably the least of his worries. He took Stane's hand, shook it firmly, and smiled. "Peter Parker. It's good to meet you. Tony only has good things to say."

"Peter's helping me with a project," Tony cut in. "But that can wait. See you later, man."

"Sure." Peter didn't like how Stane was sizing him up, but moved past him, firing a look Tony's way as he headed out of the lab.

"Good to meet you, Parker," Stane called after him, and Peter raised a hand in farewell as he moved into the house proper.

Was it time already? Had Stane already turned on Tony? Was he going to cause it all to happen again? It was a major effort to not let paranoia swarm him, and he cracked open a beer despite himself just to ease his nerves. He sat on the counter as he drank, and the exhaustion began to set in.

For the first time in a while, the exhilaration of creating the suit, of sorting out the Splinter, dropped enough that he realized how wrong this all was. He still had _Tony issues_ that were visible from fucking space, he was projecting them all over this Tony, he had nothing at home worth returning to in general beyond defending the planet, and it was all immensely pathetic. There was maybe one good thing he could do. One single good and normal thing.

He dropped the empty beer into the recycling and made his way to Zorkin's room. When he opened the door, she was eating dinner, and Peter ignored his own hunger to speak up. "Hey."

Zorkin looked up at him, expression blank. "Parker."

"So." Peter shut the door behind himself. "I wanted to update you on our trip home."

Zorkin pushed her chicken around her plate absently. "I've told you a thousand times – "

"You don't want to go back. I know. SHIELD is probably part of that. Right?" She didn't answer, so Peter went on. "If I can guarantee SHIELD won't prosecute you, would you still want to go back?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?" she fired back.

"Well, I mean, kind of no, but also kind of yes," Peter reasoned, hands crammed in his pockets now. "You have a choice of how this goes when we go home."

Zorkin glared at him in clear resentment. "What do you want from me?"

"If you can prove to me that you can do the right thing, I'll vouch for you." He held her gaze, even as she tensed. "And I'm gonna make a deal with Tony, okay? As a gesture of goodwill."

"What deal?" she asked, blatantly skeptical. "Gonna get me a lab?"

"Not exactly." Peter cleared his throat. "I can let you talk to Odysseus. You'd be walled off from JARVIS and the house's services, but the two of you could at least… I don't know. If we had assurances," he said quickly, "I think it'd be good for both of us."

Zorkin was visibly torn for just a moment, then her anger flared, and Peter cringed. "Who says I won't use him against you?" she retorted.

"That's why I want assurances." Peter wasn't going to let her try to stare him into submission, so he kept firm. "You can talk to him, have some company, figure out what you want to do. As long as you consider my offer."

"What is your offer?" Her tone was brittle. "I want to hear it straight. Don't play nice, be real with me."

"Fine." Peter didn't like it, but, oh well. "If you choose to help or join SHIELD when we get back, I'll vouch for you and we'll keep you from being detained. Right now I'm gonna try to get you Odysseus so you can talk to someone you trust about all of this."

"And the alternative is going to prison," Zorkin checked. "They won't kill me?"

Peter watched her, concerned. "I don't want you doing something – " He cleared his throat, hesitant. "I get you're a live free or die type. And helping SHIELD isn't a sentence. It's… you'll see, it's a good thing."

"If I'm doing it because the alternative is prison or death, it's not really a choice," she said bluntly. "So who says I don't want to make my own choice?"

"Please." He couldn't help but be painfully sincere. "Don't throw your life away because you don't like the idea of being bound to someone or something. You can be independent, you can be yourself, you just… can't do literally anything you want."

She rolled her eyes at him and made an irritated sound. "You don't understand. You're the type to always run to ally yourself with someone, aren't you?"

"I like helping people and I like having people to support me," Peter reasoned. "You don't? What's Odysseus to you?"

Zorkin was quiet for a moment. "What happens to Odysseus if I go to prison?" she asked.

Shit. Great question. "I don't know. Trish, I just know it's the best for everyone if you swallow your pride and do the right thing. It may not feel that way right now, but – I promise once you're there, once you're doing it, you'll understand exactly what I mean."

She shoved her plate forward on the desk and turned to face him directly. "You're too old to be this naive."

A smile broke out on Peter's face. "I could say you're too young to understand the real world."

The corner of her mouth turned up, wry, but there, and he beamed. She pressed her face into her hands, and he started to laugh. "What?" she demanded, through her fingers.

"Can I come in tomorrow?" Peter asked, still smiling even though she couldn't see him.

Zorkin made a sound he couldn't discern into her hands, then looked up. "Fine," she said, mild and clearly masking something. "I'll see you then."

"Great." He considered her for just a second, with vague, confusing fondness, then left the room to hear it lock behind him.

It was at least slightly less depressing now; Peter hid in his room out of fear of Stane finding him and asking even more questions of Tony than he already probably was, and looked through the drafting software on the nanites until there was a knock at the door. He tensed, but there was only one person it could be. "Yeah," he spoke up, and the door opened to reveal Tony, who looked pale. 

Peter sat up, then, computer to the side. "What's up?" he checked.

"Think you can take a vacation?" Tony asked him, not exactly meeting his gaze. "Just a break. I'm off-schedule."

Peter watched him, concern jabbing him hard. "That's it? He wanted you to be working on Stark Industries shit?"

"Yeah, that's it." 

Had Tony always been this bad at covering his emotional tracks, was this just Young Tony's problem, or was this something _really bad_? There was a flush now over the white in Tony's face, and Peter sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. "If there's something else," he said, "you can tell me."

Tony laughed, short, and moved towards him, sticking his palm out. "Can I have the bots?"

Oh. The nanites. Peter shifted to take them out of his pocket and press them into Tony's hand, looking into his face as his fingers brushed Tony's palm. "Do I need to do this on my own?" he asked, direct but quiet. "The suit. The Splinter. Am I fucking up your life?"

Tony shook his head abruptly, and closed his hand to tuck the nanites away. "I can balance it," he excused. "I just got caught up."

"You wanted to help me." That was something. "I know I'm helping you, but – you want to help me, don't you?"

That earned a sigh. "Don't read into it," Tony said, weary.

"I'm going to." Peter smiled, just enough. "I just want you to understand the possibilities."

"I have a question." Tony shifted on his feet, then took a seat next to Peter on the bed. "So what did I use this suit _against_? Foreign enemies? Was I some kind of Captain America or something?"

What a question. "Aliens. Gods, once or twice. Nazis? Um. Mostly aliens, though."

Tony's gaze was sharp on him again. "You didn't mention aliens."

"I just did now," Peter said instantly, to that look. "It didn't come up."

"So you know all the shit that's coming," Tony deduced. "All of the threats coming." His mind was ticking away, and Peter wasn't sure he liked it. "You're an intelligence goldmine."

"Yeah, I guess." Peter pulled in a careful breath. "And – I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't know what more I'll change if I start telling you everything that I know will _probably_ happen."

"You already changed things," Tony shot back, vaguely unimpressed, and Peter stared at him, starting to do his own calculus in response to that cooler look. "What? What's your problem with me? I'm giving you everything you want, Parker."

"Something just happened." Peter shook his head as Tony looked away in apparent annoyance. "You're not telling me," he persisted. "You're deflecting, with questions you had anyway, but – you're hiding something from me."

"I barely know you, I'm not going to tell you everything about my life," Tony snapped off. "I'm having a drink. You want a drink?"

"You need a drink." Peter smiled, not necessarily kindly. It got a pointed look from Tony, but he didn't care. "Come on. Let's have that drink."

Tony pushed himself off of the bed in open irritation and left the room, and Peter trailed him, vaguely satisfied at the response; Tony was listening to him, whether he liked it or not. Tony poured himself a drink and then another for Peter in silence, and pushed it across the table to him before taking a seat.

There was a nice chair right behind him, so Peter grabbed his drink and sat, idly observing Tony until the look finally got Tony to speak. "You're an asshole," he said.

Peter laughed, astonished. "I am?"

Tony downed some of his scotch. "You think you know everything about me."

"I don't," Peter said immediately. "I mostly know what you could be."

"You keep saying that," Tony retorted. "What if I'm not – what if that version of me is different? What if I can't be like – whatever he was?"

"A hero." Peter's voice softened. "Tony, you're already showing you can."

"What, by working on tech with you? Are you serious?" Tony was indignant, now, another cover Peter could see right through. "We made a deal, I'm getting something out of this."

"Are you planning to sell the suit?" Peter asked abruptly.

"No," Tony said without hesitation, then grimaced, pressing a hand to his face. "Oh, Jesus."

Peter smiled, still watching him. "So. Anyway."

Tony rolled his eyes and dropped his head back. "You're terrible," he said. "Why do I keep you in my house?"

"Because you're a good person." Then Peter added, with amusement, "Also, I saved your life."

Tony drank more, visibly stewing, then said, "I have a bad feeling."

All right, this was progress. "About what?"

" _Jesus_." Tony was clearly trying to hide his upset, now, and Peter resisted the urge to sit forward, to catch him physically in any way. "Fine. Yeah. Stane. Something feels off."

Peter had to measure his response to this. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." Tony looked at Peter pointedly. "Do you know something?"

Shit, shit, shit. No, no, there was only one move here. "I know we have to keep the suit away from him."

Tony stared at him, then breathed in heavily. "So he takes the tech."

"He will." Peter's chest ached; he chose to drink in the horrible silence that followed.

Finally, Tony sat forward, took one big swig, and sighed in a heavy way that Peter instinctively knew. "Okay, cool," he said. "Stane has too much access. I can't hide it from him if I put it through Stark at all. So I have to get him out."

Peter cringed. "Doesn't sound easy."

"Wouldn't be. But doesn't sound like I have a choice, here." Tony looked at Peter again, inspecting him. "Why did I let you get me into this situation?"

"You were curious," Peter said, quiet. "And you knew it was the right thing to do."

Tony drank, still stewing. "I have shit to do," he said. "Even more shit to do. I can't fuck around anymore."

"Not at all?" Peter caught a look from Tony, and smiled it off. "Like I said, I can do it on my own."

"Pete." He'd let the nickname slip again. Peter fought back the urge to let his smile widen beyond something this light. "I'm not sure you should fuck off once we break the Splinter."

It was the last thing Peter had expected to hear. "What?"

Tony was barely looking at him. "You have… foreknowledge. You're smart. You've got superpowers. And – I think we need you here."

Was this Tony Stark asking for help? "You want me here."

Tony grimaced again. "Parker, come on."

"You want me to help you," Peter amended. "I have 2033 to take care of, remember. The suit is – the suit's a start. For your future, your people."

"That's bullshit," Tony said bluntly. "You trying to flee back home to some girlfriend, wife, family? Is that why you're ditching this?"

It was an open jab, and Peter took it harder than he should have. "I don't want to ditch you." There it was. "But I have to take Zorkin home."

Tony released a short sigh. "Is that it? What if I say we can figure something out for her?"

"I'm working on her," Peter said, tone short. "We're not putting her in high security if I can get her to – "

"To what?" Tony cut him off with, astounded. "You think you can turn that girl into a hero, too?"

"Maybe," Peter defended. "She's smart, she's as smart as us. She could do a lot of good."

"Why are you so obsessed with everyone doing the right thing all of the time?" Tony pressed. "Some of us are just shitty people, Parker, you've got to come to terms with that."

"Everyone has the potential for good," Peter said firmly, "and everyone has some responsibility to use what they have towards the better good. The more potential they have, the more important that responsibility is. I believe that."

Tony was too much on the defensive; this conversation was a mistake, but there was no going back on it, Peter knew. "So you think I owe it to the world to help them."

"No one else can do what you do. No one else can do what I can do, or what Trish can do. There are things no one else can dream of that are just sitting in our heads and waiting for us to do them." Peter gestured with his drink. "So, what, just let them sit? Just never make the move? You're a 'seize the moment' guy, aren't you? At least you pretend to be."

"What are you saying?" Tony demanded. "What are you accusing me of?"

"I'm saying maybe you're more cautious than you think you are." Peter maybe shouldn't have had that beer, come to think of it. "I think you live in more fear than you're willing to admit."

Tony sat back with a sound that was nearly a huff. "Tell me what _I'm_ afraid of."

Peter looked into his glass. "Change, maybe," he said. "Consequences. That kind of thing."

"What are you afraid of?" Tony went on, now openly irritated. "You smile and flirt and run around like you don't give a damn about anything but heroics and sunshines and rainbows, what's _your_ problem?"

"Tony Stark, talking about emotions?" Peter got a glare for that. "You're deflecting. You're bad at this."

Tony gestured with his own glass. "Everyone knows I'm bad at this, you're not special."

That was probably true. "Tony."

"Were we fucking?" Tony asked suddenly, and Peter's breath caught in confusion and surprise before he went on. "In your future."

It was too much. "No." He managed to not let his face get all screwed up by it. "We were close. But no. We weren't."

"Uh-huh." Peter could feel Tony watching him. "All versions of me are too fucked up to be with someone who gives a damn, so, yeah, that scans."

That was depressing as hell. "Tony," he repeated.

"I'm not wrong. And I don't care," Tony clarified. "I'm fine as I am."

"You don't seem fine." Tony shook his head as Peter spoke, then Peter sighed again, exhausted. "Fine, you're fine. Say what you want. I don't know you."

"You don't." Tony looked so tired, so sad, in that moment, and Peter ached to touch him. "What do you want from me? Besides to save the world from aliens."

There was only one real answer. "I want you to be happy."

Tony scoffed. "Was I happy when you knew me? Back there?"

Complicated question. "Mostly. I think."

"Bullshit."

Peter groaned softly. "Tony. For God's sake."

Tony gestured it off. "Doesn't sound like a happy life, that's all I mean."

"You had people," he said genuinely. "People you cared about, who cared about you, who you could trust and who trusted you. It helped."

Tony was looking at him, again, and Peter couldn't put a word to it beyond _searching_. "Things might be different here," was all Tony said to that.

Peter dared meet his gaze directly, then tried a smile. Tony's mouth flickered into a brief, dry smile in return, and it was just enough to lighten the moment. "I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass," Peter said, to that smile. "I just want to figure all this out with you. To help you."

"You want to help someone? Fucking shock of the year." It wasn't said maliciously, though. Tony raised his eyebrows. "Drink up. We're drowning our sorrows tonight."

"What sorrows?" Peter returned, but it was a clear joke.

Tony downed what remained of his scotch. "I never wanted responsibility," he said, and stood to pour himself another drink. "Then you showed up."

Peter shook his head at him, though he didn't see it. "You hate me for it?"

"No," Tony said, to the point. "I just wish you'd talk less."

"Sorry," Peter said, but didn't mean it in the least. He finished his drink and moved next to Tony to offer his glass for a refill; Tony obliged to pour another drink, but didn't move it to Peter, instead catching him by the chin to pull into a kiss on the mouth.

It was exactly what he would've imagined a kiss from Tony Stark would be: _good_ , facial hair scratchy, and tasting of just a little bit of booze. He actually swooned for a moment after, and Tony pushed the glass to him. "Got it over with for you," he said casually. "Now what?"

Peter wasn't sure he could scrape together a sentence. "Why?" he asked, instead of anything else at all.

"You're growing on me." Tony drank, avoidant again, and Peter made himself breathe and drink as though everything hadn't turned on its head.

They barely talked as they drank this one, until Peter set his glass aside and leaned into him, maybe a little desperate; he got what he wanted, though, as Tony kissed him with more insinuation than before, and shifted him onto his back on the couch within a few quick and practiced moves.

Tony didn't need to know that Peter loved him. All he needed right now was for Peter to kiss him as intensely as he could manage, to breathe his name as Tony slid his hand into Peter's jeans, to lose his mind as Tony slipped his mouth over Peter's cock. It was everything he'd never dared dream of beyond a few sex dreams as a teenager, and he tried to level himself out enough to get words out as Tony's tongue did something incredible over the head of his cock. "I want to fuck you," he got out.

Tony looked up at him, still working his mouth over Peter's cock for a moment, and it was so hot he could've died. Then Tony straightened and shrugged. "Sounds good."

 _Sounds good._ Not the most romantic thing, but the sentiment was close enough. He scrambled to kick off his jeans and boxers, pulled his shirt over his head, and by the time his shirt was off Tony was already more than halfway unclothed. He looked _incredible_ , and Peter pulled in an unsteady breath just looking at him from the side. His cock was somehow just what he would've expected, just above average, just enough, and he ached to touch it.

Once Peter looked up at Tony's face, he caught a look of great amusement from him. Peter could've died from embarrassment. "Sorry," he excused.

"Kid, you've got it bad," Tony said, then just as smoothly, "here, or do you want some lube?"

"Here. Unless you care."

Peter realized that Tony was looking at him with about the same level of distraction, which was nice to see. "I don't care," Tony clarified.

Peter kissed him in a rush, again and again, then Tony shifted onto his knees on the couch. Peter tried to steady himself beyond the rush of absolute perfection of the moment, spat into his hand to rub over his cock, and pressed inside of Tony without a second's hesitation.

"Jesus," Tony ground out.

"All right?" Peter managed, resisting the urge to stop.

"Keep going, idiot."

Peter laughed briefly, and closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Tony's hips until Tony gasped, a very un-Tony like sound. There it was. He started to move, and Tony kept making these breathy sounds, half-groans pressed into the couch, and he felt _amazing_ , lack of lube aside. How much of it was just Tony being Tony he'd never know, but it was incredibly hot, so he started to fuck him harder.

"Fuck," Tony breathed under him.

Peter groaned under the strain of the arousal, then spat into his hand again and moved his hand around Tony to start jerking his cock. Tony tightened around him at the contact, and it was almost too much. "Fuck," Peter echoed in a gasp, and fucked him hard, feeling Tony's cock leaking already in his hand.

"God, I'm – "

Peter didn't have much longer in him, either. "I know," he cut him off with, and groaned, low in his throat, before he came inside Tony in a rush of vague regret. _Should've pulled out._ But Tony was so close, he could feel it in the way his cock twitched, and he stayed where he was to jerk him until finally he made an insanely attractive groaning sound and came with a flinch.

"Wow," Tony said, breathless, and sank into the couch. "Jesus."

Peter pulled out of him, and sank bonelessly into the couch beside him. "So," he started, stupidly. "That was…"

"Hot." Tony glanced at him, casual now. "Now we know."

"Sure." Peter's heart was in his throat. "Yeah."

Could Tony see right through him? It felt like he could see the words stuck in his throat that he'd never gotten to say, that he'd never get to say, like they were written across him in ink anyone who looked closely enough could see. Tony just watched him for what felt like a full minute but was probably only a few seconds before adding, "I'm keeping you around."

Peter couldn't resist a smile that was probably sappier than he would've liked. "Kept man?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Tony said, but it was a clear joke, and there was something else to the way he was examining Peter's face. "We'll see how it goes from here."

"Sure." Peter just reminded himself to breathe. "What now?"

Tony contemplated that. "We get to bed. It's late." He stood, and started gathering his clothes casually. "Get your shit."

"Sure," Peter repeated, somehow mortified all at once. "Sure, sorry."

"Oh my god," Tony said, half a complaint and half amused. "Just come on."

Peter shook his head at himself, and grabbed his clothes to follow Tony to the master bedroom.

* * *

Peter was narrower in general than Tony, but the idea popped into his head as he woke in Tony's bed three or so days after the beginning of their affair and it sounded too fun to resist. He entered Tony's closet, picked through the suits, then nabbed the one that looked the least expensive and a shirt in a dark purplish-red tucked in the back to try on.

He looked ridiculous, but it was about as funny as he'd expected it to be. He was still without shoes, which sort of dampened the effect of Tony Stark drag, but Tony's shoes weren't going to fit him. He grinned in the mirror and tried a Tony-esque pose with one of the expressions he'd seen over the last weeks.

"Having fun?" Tony asked from the entrance of the closet.

Peter beamed at him and tucked his hands into the pockets. "How do I look?"

"Baggy suits are so two decades ago," Tony said. "You look like a well-fucked '80s movie villain."

"Well, you're half-right." There was something distant in Tony's expression, though. "What's going on?" he prompted him.

Tony gestured with his head. "Let's talk."

Peter's smile thinned from concern. "Should I change?"

"Don't care. Come on."

They made their way back into the bedroom, where Tony sat on the bed with a deep breath. "I talked to Zorkin," he said. "And I've got some questions for you."

Oh, shit. Peter sat down, tensed, worried for the first time since the night Tony had kissed him. "Shoot," he suggested, as casual as he could be.

Tony was obviously trying to restrain a frown. "She and the AI kept talking around whatever I was up to in your timeline. I want to know why she wanted to kill me, and – yeah, why you seem to worship the ground other me walked on. So. Go."

Peter couldn't really manage a smile. "It's – "

"Pete." Tony was firm, now. "Come on."

Peter fell quiet, then made himself talk. "There was… this huge alien threat. It came at Earth twice. The first time, you and some others kept New York City from being completely leveled, you… stopped a nuclear strike, the second time – " How did he even begin to explain? "There was someone who wanted to erase the universe and create a completely new one. You stopped him."

"Okay, but how?" Tony persisted. "With the suit?" Then: "It killed me, didn't it?"

Peter felt himself going pale. "You died for all of us. He did. He knew, he – he did it anyway."

Tony's head twisted away, then he released a sharp sigh. "How do I live up to that?" he retorted. "Jesus fucking Christ. If that's what I'm supposed to do, why does that chick want me dead?"

"That's, that's a whole other thing," he rambled out. "Like I said, you sort of… wronged her family."

Tony didn't seem interested in half-measures in this conversation. "How?"

"There was a guy at your company, he didn't like how you used his tech, so he kind of… he went bad." Peter couldn't help but feel pained. "Eventually I had to take him out."

"You killed him." Tony didn't sound judgmental, at least. "You had no choice, I'm guessing?"

"He was trying to kill me. Like seriously trying to kill me." He pulled in a breath. "That was a long time ago. But she was just a kid who didn't understand why her uncle was dead."

Tony was quiet for a moment, then said, "You really expect me to do all that shit? Not the wronging this psycho, probably gonna do that by accident anyway, but the saving the universe part?"

"I'm, I'm not sure what happens here," Peter said quickly. "In this timeline, now, now that I've interrupted everything. But I know you're capable of doing it, like I've said this whole time."

"You keep saying that." Tony stared at him. "Why? Because one version of me did? What if I'm not as good as he is?"

Peter shook his head. "You're just young, yet," he said. "And – you haven't had to deal with some of the stuff he did. But that doesn't mean you can't learn some of the lessons he did."

"What happened to me?" Tony shot back. "What are you hiding from me?"

There was a long pause while Peter tried to think of something, anything else to say, then said, "You need to do something about Stane."

"Holy fuck," Tony voiced, and pressed his face into his hands. "Like I said, it's not that easy. If I try to pry him out, he'll leverage what he has against me. He's always had just as much power in this company, if not more."

Peter couldn't help it being half a whisper. "He doesn't know about the suit yet, does he?"

Tony shook his head. "That's just you, me, Pepper." He paused. "We can trust Pepper, right?"

"I think so," Peter said, and tried not to think of Pepper coming in and out of the house, seeing Peter as some kind of kept sugar baby engineer. That wasn't the point right now. "She's a good person."

Tony looked relieved at that, anyway. "I need to show you where we're at with the Splinter."

"That's it?" Peter dared ask. "About – the future I came from?"

Tony sighed, swiping a hand over his face. "It's daunting as fuck," he said. "And I think you're overestimating me. But damn if you're not kind of persuasive being so fucking _persistent_."

"I get that a lot." It was hard not to smile a little. "I know you can do it."

"Like that," Tony said, jabbing a finger at him in vague amusement, then stood. "We have to talk about the Splinter. Come on."

His heart started to pound at even the mention of the device. "Cool." This was the point; this was what he'd made the deal with Tony to do. As they went down to the lab, the concern rose palpably in his throat, until Tony turned to face him after projecting out the screens and frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Peter excused. "Go on."

Tony eyed him, then threw out a page of equations and code beneath it. "I want you to check this out."

"Sure." Peter switched himself into science mode, and skimmed through the equations. "Shit." He was hardly a chronophysicist at Trask's level, but it was _markedly_ better than what they'd been working before. "Wow, this is incredible."

Tony wasn't finished. "Check out the rest."

Beneath the code there was a draft of the Splinter cracked in half, with a new circuit drawn in bright lines on the projected screen. Peter manipulated the screen to pull the circuit out from the draft and examined it alongside the code. "Right there," he noted, and underlined a section of code. "That's where we punch the right hole. You reverse-engineered her stuff, right?"

"Yeah, and did some figuring of my own." Tony watched him. "So. I think that's your way home."

Peter felt sick. "Yeah," he echoed. "Looks like it."

Tony closed out the screen and moved to where the nanites were stored. "Suit's in phase two," he said. "We've made some serious progress these last weeks."

"Right," he forced out. "I know. All this work. Even with your other stuff, right?"

"Right." Tony looked at him, but Peter couldn't meet his gaze. "You can't go."

It was the absolute last thing he'd expected to hear. "Tony," Peter started.

"If someone out there wants to end the universe, and someone has to solve it, I think – I think you're fucked up about who has to do it." Tony caught Peter's startled look and held his gaze. "I don't want you to die on the way," he clarified, "but there's no way in hell I can be a better person than you. We need you."

"I'm not, I'm not – " Peter floundered. "I'm a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, I'm not a leader, I'm not – "

"You're incredible, shut the fuck up," Tony said, honestly looking a little irritated. "How can I do this without you?"

Peter felt horribly warm all at once. "You want me to stay. You want me to do this with you." There was the one big question, though. "What about my timeline?"

"We can spit you back out there the moment you left," Tony said bluntly. "As soon as you're ready to go back."

It was written all over his face, probably, Peter realized, but he'd never been particularly good at hiding how he was feeling. "I'll stay. If you need me to stay. If you want me on your team."

Tony nodded briskly, with a pointed turn of his head to not meet Peter's eyes. "So we need to come up with a gameplan. Stop Obie from whatever he's planning, get on this alien threat ASAP. You and me. We can get this going."

This was such a triumph it felt too surreal to be true. "Tony," he said abruptly. "Tony, are you sure about this?"

"I've got no choice, kid." He didn't sound upset, though, just practical. "You were right this whole time, you son of a bitch, this is better." He wouldn't look at Peter. "This is the way I was always meant to go. To be better."

Peter couldn't resist a helpless smile, then moved to Tony and kissed him thoroughly, fingers around the back of his neck and into his hair. Tony returned the kiss gratefully, and Peter sank him back into the lab table, melting against him.

When they broke halfway, Tony murmured just loudly enough to be heard, "You trust me?"

"With my life," Peter said softly, his fingers soft on Tony's cheek.

"You're insane." Tony punctuated it with another kiss.

"A little," Peter whispered after. "Comes with the territory."

Tony was casually groping him, now, and the moment was somehow ridiculous, hot, and romantic all at the once. "What territory?" he asked breezily.

Peter figured there was no point trying to hide it anymore. "Loving you."

Tony seized him into a kiss with one hand and undid his suit pants with the other, probably to avoid answering that, but Peter didn't care in the least. His breath was warm against Tony's ear as they broke and Tony worked his cock under his boxers, and he knew there was nothing left to say.

They fucked against the lab table, Tony harshly pressed gasping into the metal until they both came in a mess of arousal and emotion. "Fuck," Tony panted out after, fingers still tight on the edge of the table.

"Yeah?" Peter teased, kissing the side of his neck the best he could from his angle before withdrawing.

Tony shifted to yank up his pants and boxers, and turned to face Peter, an openness in his face Peter had never seen. "We need to celebrate," he said, instead of whatever words were obviously stuck in the back of his throat. "Let's drink."

Peter fixed his own clothes. "What are we celebrating?"

"Major developments," Tony said dryly. "Come on."

"Okay," Peter agreed, and followed Tony without the slightest bit of hesitation.

The only thing, the only problem, was the weight of two timelines on his head. He'd been trying to shunt this one off on Tony for weeks now; maybe, possibly, he was the key this time.

_You're not a kid anymore, Peter. You can do this. You can save so many people from Thanos if you use your head._

"Right," he muttered to himself, somehow both relieved and stressed at once, and took a seat as Tony poured them drinks, purposely oblivious to Peter's brief stewing.

The difference with this, here, now, and the nightmare that had been his timeline, was that the weight could be shared. No one would fade, age ten times, struggle with the constant anxiety alone. They could do this. Peter had to believe that.

* * *

Zorkin reached out the next day, before Peter could even bring news of the Splinter to her.

Peter slipped into her room with a smile. "Hey, Trish."

"Hey." Zorkin was wearing an expression he'd never seen on her face, and it startled him before she went on. "I talked to Stark. You probably heard."

"Yeah," he prompted. "How'd it go?"

Zorkin was silent for a pause, then she said, "You're right. You've been right."

What the hell. Peter's heart leapt. "About what?" he checked.

"It's not good for anyone for me to do all of this out of, of grief." Zorkin looked like she was half in physical pain. "It's not good for me, it's not good for Odysseus, it's not good for the world. I fucked up."

He dared sit next to her as she started to wilt, and spoke softly. "Hey. It's okay."

Zorkin pressed her eyes shut. "Tell me it's gonna be okay, Parker."

"If you help me," Peter said, gentle, "I can show you the way."

Zorkin didn't open her eyes. "Why would you trust me?"

"Because it hurts to realize you've made a mistake. And you wouldn't be hurting right now if you didn't realize what you'd done, or tried to do, or whatever." He nudged her. "So I can tell you mean it."

She shook her head. "But I'm not, I'm not… I'm not normal." She laughed dryly. "You don't want me on your team."

"What's so not normal?" He had to persist. "What's not normal about grief?"

"I've killed people." Zorkin's tone was flat. "So have you. You know that changes you. It's something you can't undo."

Peter smiled faintly. "We can't change what happened to us, even if we can time travel. What we can do is change what we do going forward."

"You're ridiculous." It didn't seem to be a serious insult. "So, what, do you think Stark will trust me?"

"I'll vouch for you." He lightly touched her hand that rested on the bed beside her leg. "We've got Thanos to take down. We could use you."

"I wouldn't trust me, if I were you," Zorkin warned.

Peter shrugged. "I believe in you."

She sighed heavily. "If I make a promise – can I at least come out of this room?"

"As long as you're not just promising to get out of the room and plan on stabbing Tony with the nearest knife," Peter said, only half a joke.

Zorkin went silent again, before being out with it. "I'm in."

Peter felt a surge of warmth, and took her hand to squeeze it. "So'm I. You're in good company."

"Okay." Zorkin's voice was small. "Talk to Stark for me."

"I got it," he assured her, and released her hand to stand. "Rest up. We're gonna be working hard from now on. No more solitary vacation."

"That might be nice." Zorkin lifted her head. "Hey, Odysseus?"

"Yes, Trish?" Odysseus chimed in from the nearby speaker.

"You think this is a good idea?"

The AI didn't hesitate. "We came here to do the right thing. If the right thing is to kill Thanos instead of Tony Stark, I'm ready to do it."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Close enough," he said. "You're not gonna turn on us, are you, man?"

"I go with Trish," Odysseus said, in its usual casual tone.

Peter sent Zorkin an expectant look, and she wore a faint smile. He shrugged at her, slightly amused, and turned to leave.

"Thanks," Zorkin said, abrupt but genuine, and turned to lie down on the bed, away from him.

Peter smiled, and left her there, determined to turn Tony's head one more time for the sake of the universe.

* * *

Tomorrow meant the day the plan to blackmail and oust Stane based on what Tony had discovered using an insane amount of hacking would be fully executed, and Tony had been more than on edge about the prospect for days. It didn't surprise Peter when he couldn't find Tony anywhere in the house. "Hey JARVIS," he spoke up. "Where did he go?"

"Mr. Stark is in the kitchen," JARVIS said. "I would suggest going there immediately."

That was a jarring thing to hear added. "Why?"

"Mr. Stark attempted to engage me and failed. It's rare he can't complete his sentences."

That was true. Peter bolted up from the lab into the kitchen at a decent Spider pace, and his Spider-sense blasted between his ears as he saw Obadiah Stane turn away from where he'd half-undressed and hastily gagged Tony, leaving him pressed against the kitchen counter. "Hey, kid," Stane said. "Mind giving us some space? Teaching your sugar daddy a hard lesson right now."

Peter was on him within seconds, but Stane wasn't necessarily a small dude; the punch that did land almost dazed him. Stane scrambled back to seize a knife and came at Peter, who kept it together despite his rising anxiety for Tony, cursing that he hadn't just started to wear the spider-suit at all times. Within seconds he had Stane's wrist in a twist to make him drop the blade, and finally caught Stane around the neck. "Now would be a good time to back down," Peter suggested, friendly enough. "Otherwise this ain't gonna be pretty."

"You two think you're so smart," Stane said, with clear disdain, and attempted to throw Peter, but his grip was too tight. Strained, Stane kept going, and tried to press forward for any weapon he could find. "I know what you're up to," Stane ground out.

"I know what you're up to," Peter shot back, hauling him backward. "Your plans are thinner than what hair you have left, man."

"Fuck you," Stane said flatly, and Peter heard Tony trying to pull in breaths through his gag. There was no easy way out of this. He attempted to choke Stane unconscious, but Stane kept resisting, and Peter closed his eyes tightly as he prayed he could keep the anger from pressing him to the wrong choice.

Suddenly there was an awful crackling sound, and Stane screamed under him; Peter released him as he received a brief but horrible jolt of pain to his side, and Stane twitched on the ground. Peter turned hurriedly to see Zorkin calmly standing a few feet away with her earpiece on.

"What?" Peter asked, bewildered.

"It's called a neuron blast," Zorkin answered with a shrug of one shoulder. "Um, you might want to check on the guy, though."

Peter knelt by Stane, whose gaze was cloudy and neck still twitching. "Jesus. What did you do?" he pressed Zorkin. "Did you kill him?"

"It normally just disables people," Zorkin defended, then added, "Do you want to do something about Stark?"

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Peter looked between Tony and Stane, then got to his feet and undid Tony's gag. "Hey," he murmured, touching Tony's cheek. "You're all right, we got you."

Tony shook his head in a short motion, then met Peter's gaze only for a moment. "Is he dead?" he asked, to the point.

Peter grimaced. "I think we gotta get him to a hospital or something."

Tony shifted away enough to pull up his pants. "Do we?"

It was a jarring question to hear. "Tony, he might be dying."

Zorkin spoke up from behind them. "He just tried to do heinous shit to both of you, and he's planning to take down Stark within a handful of months. Maybe sooner. If he goes right now…"

"I'm not going to sit back and watch someone die," Peter said firmly. "I'm taking him to the hospital."

Tony shook his head at Peter. "I think it's too late," he said honestly. "Be real, man."

Peter went back to kneel by Stane, who was unconscious and barely breathing as Peter examined him. "Come on," he pressed the other two. "Help me get him up."

"You're fucking incorrigible." Tony didn't move. "Peter, you saw what he was doing."

"I know." It hurt to acknowledge. "But I just…"

"He's gone," Zorkin cut in, her tone even. "Odysseus isn't seeing anything on his vitals."

Peter breathed out slowly. "So…"

"So this is it," Tony said, catching Peter's gaze. "Step one. Stane's out."

Was this what it'd taken? "It wasn't clean the other time, either." People had died. This time it was just Stane. That had to be better, hadn't it? Still, he felt cold, terrible. "I guess… report it as a heart attack?"

"I guess," Tony echoed, and looked at Zorkin, expression careful and level. "Thanks."

"No problem." Zorkin wasn't wearing a smile, but she wasn't unfriendly either.

"Tony." Peter felt something horrible wrenching in his stomach. "Call someone. Then – then we need to talk."

"I know." Tony wasn't stupid; he knew Peter wasn't going to let him off the hook talking about this, and it was written all over his face. "I got it. You two go back to your shit."

"Trish." Peter straightened to look her way. "Let's head to the lab."

After a brisk nod, she waited for him to lead the way, and they mostly silently worked on nanites, much worse things on their minds.

* * *

Peter leaned into Tony on the couch, his fingers in his hair, and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry that happened," he said softly. "But I got you. I always got you."

"Don't talk down to me, Peter." But it was gentle enough. "I can handle myself."

"I know. I know." It ached to hear him on that awful edge. "I got you. That's all I wanted to say."

Tony turned his face to Peter's and kissed him. "I know," he echoed, and Peter knew what he meant, even if he might never be able to voice it. The smile flashed over his face, genuine but sad.

It was easy to think that Peter's past had been heroic and perfect, but the more he'd explored it in his head, the more he'd realized how messy and near-death it had been; the more he'd thought about it, the more he'd realized he was at least one of the men of the moment, because he'd been ready for more than ten years to put his head on the line, and that was what the universe needed, with Thanos on his way.

Terrible things were going to happen; Uncle Ben was going to die; a young Peter would silently cry in his room for hours until he fell asleep; all of it would play out, the same but new, still dirty but as clean as Peter could get it. This was his neighborhood, for now. 2033 Queens could wait. He could do this, here and now.

If Tony Stark could do the right thing, so could Zorkin, so could he.


End file.
